Thigh Highs
by lunaslittlesecret
Summary: 6th year AU Draco is bored in potions class and spots Hermione's new wardrobe change. Hermione is unaware of her allure to the opposite sex. Will Draco change her mind? Hermione/Draco & Harry/Blaise Rating for occasional language and slash in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own any of these characters or places and I am not making any profit from this fanfiction.**

Chapter 1

Draco Malfoy was pissed. Even worse, he was randy and pissed. Obviously Granger had no idea what she was doing. Saint Granger's most nefarious thoughts would never wander in the direction that Draco's did every time he saw her now. Stupid, stupid, stupid he told himself daily, but he couldn't help looking forward to potions every Monday and Thursday with the Gryffindors. Luckily no one noticed his increased enthusiasm for the course since he had always excelled at potions, not to mention his biweekly golden trio taunting.

Draco's carnal interest in Granger was sparked one Thursday as he was lounging at his bench, happily watching Potty and the Weasel fuck up their Befuddlement Draught, having finished his own potion ages before. Slughorn really was an idiot, he thought, a competent third year could brew this draught, and 6th year was supposed to be NEWT prep. He sighed and his eyes wandered to Granger who was partnered with Longbottom again. Smart move Granger, he smirked. She had finished early because she had only allowed the dunce to cut up the ingredients, while she herself did the actual brewing. She was using her extra time, shockingly, to read ahead in her Arithmancy textbook. The extended edition was so large, she was using her knees to prop the book up while she studied. Her school approved knee length skirt had ridden up to expose a bit of lace around her left thigh. Draco's eyes widened and he stifled a gasp, then looked around to see if anyone else had seen. All of the other students were too busy finishing their potions to notice Grangers slip up. She shifted further down in her seat and the band of lace at the top of her stocking was exposed as well as a sliver of golden flesh. His mouth went dry. "Oh fuck," he thought. "Since when does Granger wear thigh highs?" The bell rang and she leapt out of her seat, shoved her enormous book into her bag, and dragged the dimwitted duo to their next lesson, taking her gorgeous legs with her, now properly covered by her regulation pleated grey skirt. As soon as she left, he managed to close his mouth, which had fallen open in surprise, and scolded himself for allowing his emotions to become so unguarded. He didn't want anyone else to discover Granger's little secret.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Hermione Granger hated tights. They were itchy and restricting and horrible, not to mention a huge inconvenience when going to the bathroom. But Hogwarts was freezing in midwinter, especially in the dungeons and tights were part of the uniform at that time of year. She had endured the monstrosities for five whole years until this year she decided that she had had enough. Over the summer she had taken an embarrassing trip with her mother to an undergarment store, where she was forced to be measured and fitted for some "grown up bras" as her mother called them. To her dismay she was now a large C cup and her mother bought her three very flattering new bras. She would have been more upset but she had argued her way down from the 5 that her mother had originally wanted to buy. However, on the way to the register she had spied them, thigh high stockings.

Rather than involving her mother, she returned to the store later and bought herself 3 different colors, nude, white, and black. She tried them on with her new uniform from Madame Malkins; somehow necessary since her breasts had grown and she had filled out a little over the summer. Her mother called it curviness, but Hermione just found it annoying that she needed new robes at all, until she tried on the stockings. Last year her skinny thighs would never have held up the stretchy material at the top, but now they stayed in place with ease and she realized she would never have to wear those wretched tights again. Her skirt fell to her knees and there was plenty of space between the bottom of the skirt and the top of the socks. No one could tell, she mused. She smiled happily as she undressed and packed her new treasures into her trunk as she wouldn't need them until the weather turned cold


	3. Chapter 3

Draco watched Granger carefully in the weeks following "the incident", as he had come to call it in his mind. A swish of the skirt here, a fallen quill there, and there it was, that alluring lace and sometimes a glimpse of a thigh. She wore them all the time, he realized after some lengthy and intense observation. No matter the day, no matter the color, they were always thigh highs, never tights. This was why he now looked forward to potions. That dingy, poorly lit dungeon was where he saw the most. She was less guarded here, totally immersed in her work. Her hair was always frizzier in the fog of the potions, her shirt often became un-tucked as she worked, and Draco was allowed a more frequent peek at her thighs. Granger was in her element while she was brewing and was therefore less concerned with menial tasks such as straightening her uniform, or even noticing it was askew for that matter.

Draco couldn't believe that no one else had noticed Granger's new addition to her wardrobe. Merlin's balls, it was January. She must have been wearing them since at least October, if she had switched her tights out for them. He couldn't believe it had taken him this long to spot them and that no one else had, not that he spent a lot of time looking at Grangers thighs before "the incident". But it seemed to Draco that not one person had noticed that Granger was now wearing lacey stockings instead of tights. Not the Weasel, that dense wanker whom she so obviously liked. Definitely not Potter, whom Draco had seen eying up Zabini on more than one occasion. And certainly not McLaggen who was too busy ogling Granger's tits when they were together to notice anything more subtle. Not that Granger's breasts weren't note-worthy, because they were. Merlin they were, she had filled out over the summer in more ways than one. Hermione Granger now had hips, a great rack, and yes, some knockout legs, in Draco's opinion. Not that he shared that opinion with anyone. He had started a whole new round of self-loathing because he rarely thought about anyone or anything else. He felt as though he would explode if he didn't act or at least share his illicit feelings with someone. Feelings… ugh when did he become a sodding Hufflepuff. It was those stupid socks, those fucking thigh highs. How could a piece of clothing change the way he felt about Granger. Something would have to be done. Draco needed a plan and a confidant.


	4. Chapter 4

Blaise Zabini was bi. He had actually been under the impression that everyone was bisexual when he had first started to consider his preferences during third year. It just didn't make sense to him why people differentiated between genders. Both could be physically attractive and exploring each partner's body and learning how to please each in turn was an enjoyable challenge to him. It was only his observant nature that allowed him to determine that not everyone felt the same as he. During third and fourth years he watched his peers closely and noticed that not many focused their attentions on the same gender.

For example, while he stared at everyone's asses Draco only stared at Granger's. He chuckled to himself and watched his friend tear his eyes away from her long enough to give Blaise a look and ask, "What are you sniggering at?"

Blaise gave Draco a smile and easily made up an excuse. "Weasley's just tried copying Granger's notes again."

Draco looked back over and sure enough Hermione was pink in the face and giving Ron a barely restrained and whispered lecture about how he needed to take his studies more seriously and stop relying on her whenever he wanted to take a nap during lecture. Blaise glanced past the two at Potter and was surprised to meet a pair of green eyes. Harry looked down quickly and continued doodling on his parchment. Interesting, Blaise mused to himself. Had Potter been staring blankly into space or at him directly? It was hard to tell for sure especially during History of Magic, when almost everyone was staring blankly into space. He had always assumed Potter was straight as a rail, but was he? Blaise had never heard any definitive proof one way or the other. He would have to do some digging. Although he was bi, Blaise had some pretty specific tastes. He didn't necessarily have a "type", but he was attracted to the unique and the unusual and Potter was definitely that.

When the bell rang, Hermione stormed out of the room, her skirt swishing behind her. Draco watched her intently until the last glimpse of her shoe was around the door frame as if his eyes were magnetized to her presence. Blaise sighed; Draco was lucky that Gryffindors were so oblivious to nonverbal cues and communication. It took all the subtlety of a freight train before one would notice anything was amiss. However Slytherins were just the opposite; they saw everything and used every action of another person to gather information for their own power. Sometimes assuming things and coming to false conclusions in an attempt to gain control over another. But he would rather be too observant than too dense, Blaise thought to himself as he followed Draco out of the room. He would have to have a talk with his friend about Granger, before anyone else noticed his new obsession with the bookworm.


	5. Chapter 5

Draco lay on his four-poster late that night, trying and failing to keep his mind off Granger and hastily trying to finish his Arithmancy homework. He lay on his stomach, feet crossed in the air, and wondered when exactly he had determined that Arithmancy was her favorite subject. There was very little about her school life that he didn't know now because Hermione was a habitual creature. He drew his mind back to his homework; it was hard to concentrate when every time he began a new problem, Hermione's smart mouth interjected itself in his mind with the correct answer. After that he was fucked because all he could think about was her mouth… and his mouth… and the things they could do to each other with their mouths. Draco was jerked out of his fantasy when he heard Zabini's low melodious voice say "Nott, there might be something to interest you in the corridor."

Theo, who was reading a PlayWitch magazine glanced over and spat "Piss off Zabini, I'm busy."

"Tracy Davis is locked out of her dormitory in only a towel," Blaise commented.

Theo looked at him suspiciously but still left the room in quite a hurry.

"Is she really?" Draco inquired.

"No of course not."

Blaise cast a silencing spell and a useful little charm that zapped anyone who tried to open the door with a mild electric shock. Then he looked around and queried, "Where's Crabb and Goyle?"

"Fuck if I know."

"Drake we need to talk."

He looked up lazily from his second to last problem. "Right, what is it?"

"Granger." Blaise replied.

A thousand thoughts and emotions flitted through Draco's head in that instant, but he kept his face guarded and blank. "What about her."

"Give it up Draco, I know. I've seen the way you look at you at her. The way you watch her."

"That's ridic"

Blaise cut him off. "Relax I'm not here to blackmail you, I'm here to make you a deal. If you hadn't noticed yet, I don't really give a fuck about blood status."

"What do you get out of it Blaise? I don't share what's mine." Draco all but snarled.

"Keep your pants on, I'm not interested in Hermione." Blaise paused, "What have you heard about Potter and his sexual inclinations?" he asked with a mysterious glimmer in his dark eyes.

"Not much since that Chang girl, the seeker for Ravenclaw," he replied his eyes still narrowed in suspicion.

"Hmmm yes, I had heard about that catastrophe last year."

Draco enquired "Do you fancy Potter then?"

It was not surprise to him that Blaise like boys. They had been close enough since last year that he had become aware of the other Slytherin's specific penchants.

"I think he's interesting,' he replied, "a definite possibility. I've been thinking we could benefit each other in these endeavors. I could help you win Gryffindor's princess and you could help me seduce the golden boy."

"What could you do?" said Draco.

"Well first off you've got to be more careful. You've got to stop staring at her more often than usual. Don't be so obvious Drake. You're just bloody lucky nobody else has noticed yet. I could also help you succeed with Granger; I am quite skilled in the art of seduction. As for me, we both know that you know more about Potter than most of the Gryffindors. You two are obsessed with each other, trying to find ways to undermine and get the better of each other. If I didn't know any better I'd say Potter was in Slytherin himself. Tell me what he enjoys doing. What are his habits and routines? Where can I catch him alone to talk on occasion?"

Not as much obsessed anymore." Draco commented, "I seem to have acquired a new fascination. Glad we had this little talk Blaise. A pact it is then."

Blaise said nothing in return, only smirked as they shook hands.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry Potter hated labels. Not just the kind sewn into clothing, which he also hated. He ripped them out of the clothes in his wardrobe voraciously whenever he spotted one. This usually resulted in him wearing his shirts backwards, inside out, or both. Not that he cared in the slightest, as long as there was never a label irritating his skin and demanding his attention at random moments throughout the day.

But more than anything, Harry hated the labels people placed on themselves and on others. Although they were invisible, he found them just as vexing as the kind on his apparel. Slytherin or Gryffindor, good or bad, introvert or extrovert, smart or dull, beautiful or ugly, straight or bent, rough or smooth. These unseen social cues put everyone into boxes, made them crush their differences from one another to fit into their assigned boxes. Harry didn't see the world this way, not in black and white as others seemed to. He realized that everyone had dichotomies within themselves and it was much more beneficial to embrace all of oneself instead of picking and choosing traits that others had deemed favorable. He saw himself as many things and not simply siting on one side of a spectrum.

This was why he had begun to embrace his more Slytherin qualities as of late. Harry had realized it was stupid to suppress these traits anymore simply because he was a Gryffindor, as twisted an explanation as that seemed. Another reason for the switch in his viewpoints was his sexuality. Harry did not appreciate being forced to pick a sexuality when his tastes were diverse and not gender, but person specific. He was usually attracted to a specific feature in his partners, not their gender. Cho Chang, for instance, had such unusual but beautiful hair. It was long, blue-black, and straight like dark rainfall. He had spent an inordinate amount of time watching her after their first Quidditch match in third year; her hair had whipped about her face like a miniature tornado as she tracked his progress across the field, and he had become transfixed. In the weeks and months following their first meeting he had watched spellbound as she pulled her hair into a ponytail before eating in the great hall, again when a lock of hair fell across her cheek in the library as she was bent over her work, and on many other occasions besides.

Obsession was in his nature apparently, but it hadn't worked out in the long run with Cho to his dismay and eventual acceptance. For a while he had toyed with the idea of Ginny Weasley, as he was enamored with her long, graceful limbs. He had come to the conclusion that it was not a good idea. He cared for his friendship with Ron too much to jeopardize it and she seemed very happy with Dean Thomas in any case. No, recently his new fixation had become Blaise Zabini. His skin was so striking, smooth and dark. Harry spent a lot of time imagining what it would feel like under his fingers, and what it would taste like if he pressed kisses into it.

He had been watching Malfoy in Charms class one afternoon, whom he had noticed staring at Hermione more than usual as of late, and his eyes had drifted over to Zabini. Harry's eyes had run over his nose and mouth, down his neck, and to his exposed forearms, where he had rolled the sleeves of his shirt up. Blaise's skin was like black silk and he knew he was done for then as his cock twitched at the thought of all that gorgeous skin exposed at once. He had jerked his gaze down before he got carried away, but ever since then he hadn't been able to stop himself sneaking glances at the Slytherin every now and again. He had perfected the blank stare, so that if he was ever caught in the act, people usually thought he had been staring off into space and not directly at anything or anyone in particular. The other day in History of Magic, however, Blaise had caught his gaze momentarily and tilted his head to one side as if considering something. Harry had looked away immediately for obvious reasons. It really wouldn't do him any good getting involved with the Slytherin, and would probably bring him nothing but trouble. He should just forget it before things got out of hand, and he acted without thinking. With that he dragged himself away from thoughts of Blaise and ate the cold spoonful of stew that he had forgotten during his musings. He nudged Hermione who was seated next to him reading her Advanced Arithmancy textbook and said "Malfoy's watching you."

And he was correct. Hermione glanced up from her book across the great hall and met Malfoy's gaze for a brief second before the blonde turned away to talk to Theodore Nott. "I wonder what he wants," questioned Hermione thoughtfully.

"Dunno, but he's been watching you like that all this week and part of last so far as I've noticed."

"Has he really?" she replied looking slightly alarmed.

Harry nodded and continued eating his stew. Ron wasn't there to give comment on the matter because Slughorn had given him detention for splashing Goyle "accidentally" with befuddlement draught. Not that it made much of a difference; Goyle behaved exactly the same before and after the incident. Hermione went back to reading her book with a concerned line now apparent on her forehead and Harry's gaze wandered back to the Slytherin table to focus on Blaise, whom he watched absentmindedly for the remainder of the meal.


	7. Chapter 7

Hermione was unnerved. It was not a feeling she enjoyed. She knew Malfoy had been watching her ever since Harry had mentioned it to her at dinner last week. She could feel his eyes on the back of her neck in class or on her figure as she left the great hall, but she could never catch him in the act. Whenever she whipped her head around to look at him, he was innocently taking notes, talking to Blaise, or something else equally as innocuous. She knew logically she should assume that he wasn't watching her anymore, since she couldn't gather any evidence of the fact herself, but she had a feeling in the pit of her stomach that he still was.

She had thought about asking Harry again whether or not Malfoy still had his eyes on her, but Harry had seemed rather preoccupied as of late and she didn't want to give him another reason to neglect his studies. She figured Malfoy would eventually come to harass her about whatever was biting him in due time. All she really needed to do was go about her daily business and wait for him to approach her, and possibly come up with some good insults for the confrontation that she was sure would follow.

It happened one morning as she was leaving Transfiguration. The ambush took her by surprise as they had Transfiguration with the Ravenclaws and she just wasn't mentally prepared for Malfoy to seek her out aside from their normal class schedule together. She stayed behind to ask Professor McGonagall where she could find more information in the library about human to animal transfiguration. Harry and Ron had left immediately after the lesson and hurried off to the Great Hall. "See you at lunch Hermione," Ron called carelessly over his shoulder.

She wondered if he would ever return or better yet notice her feelings at all. Hermione meandered down the 2nd floor corridor lost in thought about Ron and animal transformation. Without warning, she was abruptly yanked into an empty classroom. Her bag was jerked free of her grasp and before she could regain her balance and see who had pulled her, she heard a male voice mutter the incantations for a silencing and locking spell on the door. She turned slowly on her heel and locked gazes with the Slytherin. "Malfoy," she said without any inflection in her tone.

"Granger," he replied smirking.

They held eye contact for a long moment. Hermione's sepia brown eyes meeting Malfoy's storm cloud grey ones. Her eyes flicked down to her satchel, which Malfoy still had firmly in his grasp and that contained her wand.

"Whatever you have planned for me, you wont get away with it," she declared hotly.

Malfoy began to say something but she cut him off and began speaking quickly, her volume increasing with each phrase. "Ron and Harry will come looking if I don't show up at lunch and I've just come from talking to Professor McGonagall so I'm sure when they start searching they'll look near her classroom first and"

"Keep your knickers on Granger, I just want to have a chat."

Malfoy tossed her the bag he was holding and walked casually to an empty desk pushed against the far wall. He leaned against the table and lazily crossed his legs, looking at her expectantly.

"Oh," was all she said as she tugged nervously at the hem of her skirt.

Malfoy picked an invisible speck of lint off of his trousers. "I need your help Granger."

"What could you possibly want from me," she warily replied.

"I've been struggling recently in Arithmancy and I need a tutor. Father would go ballistic if he finds out I am doing poorly so I can't officially request one from the library. Therefore as my options are limited, I have selected you as the best option."

Hermione was stunned but snapped "Aren't you worried my dirty blood and inferior breeding will contaminate you in some way?"

He calmly retorted, "When was the last time I called you that word, or made any derogatory comment about your heritage?"

She paused again and realized she couldn't remember a single time this year that he had thrown a "Mudblood" comment her way.

He smirked again and asked, "So what do you think Granger? The meetings would have to be late and somewhat secretive. I don't want to risk any other Slytherins finding out I came to you for help."

When she made no outward response to his proposal, he pushed "Aw common Hermione, I'll even say please."

She looked up at him again in surprise at his use of her first name even more than his use of the magic word and decided she would help, if only to figure out what Malfoy was really up to. She was sure an ulterior motive was buried in this scheme somewhere. "Alright," she finally responded. "But if this is some kind of trick Malfoy, I will invent a new hex just for you, and I can assure you, it will not be pleasant."

"Tomorrow at midnight then," he said as he unlocked the door, another smile on his face, the only acknowledgement of her threat. "Back of the library," he called behind him as he left the room.

Hermione had to spend the next 5 minutes lowering her heart rate before joining Ron and Harry at lunch.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey guys. Sorry it's been so long since I updated. I promise I have not abandoned this story and I know exactly where it is going. I'm in college so honestly I've just been swamped with schoolwork this year. There will be more frequent updates now and I hope you enjoy this latest chapter. It is basically the previous chapter told from Draco's perspective. I had always planned this for the story and I hope that it reminds you what is going on and reels you back in. Happy reading!**

Draco nervously twisted a lock of his platinum hair between his fingers. It was shoulder length now and he both liked and disliked that he more closely resembled his father because of it. He had allowed Pansy to cut it into graceful layers that framed his face using a charm from a Witch Weekly article. He quite liked the effect, mostly because the style distinguished him from Lucius at least a little. However, it was always falling in his face and he had acquired a habit of playing with it at times when he was in a mood, such as now.

He knew ambushing Granger was probably not his best idea. But he reasoned, he wasn't going to hurt her only talk to her. He peeked out around the tapestry he was concealed behind and sure enough there she was, meandering down the corridor, humming absent-mindedly. He glanced quickly at her hands and her robe pocket, and even raked her glossy curls for the tell tale bit of wood she sometimes stuck behind her ear for safekeeping. Her wand was nowhere in sight; he smiled as he realized she must have stowed it away in her bag. It was now or never he thought and quick as a striking snake, he grabbed her bag and deftly twisted the strap around her shoulder twice. Then he yanked the bag, and Hermione Granger along with it, into an empty classroom, next to his tapestry, which he had selected for just this occasion. He then quickly untangled the satchel from her person and backed away before she could regain her wits and start attacking him either physically or magically. He remembered agitatedly to lock and silence the room before she undoubtedly started berating and/or threatening him.

She regained her balance by stumbling backward into a spare desk, very smooth, he thought to himself smugly. With her hands planted on the desk behind her still supporting her weight from her tumble, she looked up and they locked eyes. Her eyes reminded him of old photographs, like the kind stacked in the attic of the manor, his ancestors staring sternly out from their stiff formal poses, only breaking their firm veneer to scratch a nose, or adjust a lock of hair. Hermione's eyes were the same sepia color, but held a warmth he had never experienced, even when she was fuming with anger as she was now.

"Malfoy," she said in a monotone, clearly attempting to regulate her emotions.

"Granger," he smoothly replied, delighted that the first part of his plan had actually worked.

She then began speaking, describing how her friends would come looking for her, and that her teachers would notice her absence, blah blah blah. Her volume and speed increased with each passing second until he interjected himself into her little rant.

"Keep your knickers on Granger, I just want to have a chat."

Merlin how he wanted to see those, but this wasn't the time and he redirected his thoughts to the real Hermione, in this room, who most likely wanted to hex him a new arsehole, literally, not strip down for him like his fantasy Hermione often did. He threw her satchel to her to show he meant no harm and waited for her response. This was a gamble, he knew, as she may just curse him and leave the room now that she had her wand. But he wanted to throw her off by giving her wand and belongings back, and interest her enough to engage in this little discussion.

"Oh," was all she said as she pulled her skirt down and flattened the pleats back into place.

It's no use Granger, he thought to himself, I already know your little secret.

All he said aloud was "I need your help Granger."

"What could you possibly want from me," she replied cautiously.

He fluidly launched into his tale, "I've been struggling recently in Arithmancy and I need a tutor. Father would go ballistic if he finds out I am doing poorly so I can't officially request one from the library. Therefore as my options are limited, I have selected you as the best option."

Obviously he required no such thing but she needn't know that. He knew she would at least appreciate the flattery since he was openly admitting her intelligence and asking for her help. But Hermione immediately went on the defensive.  
"Aren't you worried my dirty blood and inferior breeding will contaminate you in some way?"

Draco was stunned. He hadn't teased her about that since before the beginning of sixth year, even before he had noticed her thigh highs. Hermione was such an observant person that he was surprised she hadn't noticed this partial reformation.

"When was the last time I called you that word, or made any derogatory comment about your heritage?"

Now it was Hermione's turn to look staggered, as she paused to consider his question and came to the conclusion that she couldn't remember the last time he called her a mudblood. He could read her face like a book now, pun intended, Merlin he was turning into such a fucking Hufflepuff.

"So what do you think Granger? The meetings would have to be late and somewhat secretive. I don't want to risk any other Slytherins finding out I came to you for help."

When a response from her was not forthcoming, using his most persuasive voice he intoned,

"Aw common Hermione, I'll even say please."

She looked even more unsettled at his plea but finally acquiesced to his request adding,

"But if this is some kind of trick Malfoy, I will invent a new hex just for you, and I can assure you, it will not be pleasant."

He smiled to himself at her threat; it was only to be expected. He sauntered out of the room calling behind him,

"Tomorrow at midnight then, back of the library."

He wandered toward the great hall for lunch, pondering the conversation. He supposed it had gone well overall, they hadn't tried to kill each other at least. He remained optimistic that his plan would succeed. He had the all patience and cunning of a beast hunting its quarry, and he would not be deterred from his prize. He found Blaise at the Slytherin table and also found a tureen of butternut squash soup and some focaccia bread. He was particularly fond of the dish as his mother kept a large garden in back of the manor, including a vegetable garden and an extensive plot for herbs. During the winter months the house elves prepared a similar dish from the squash and spices. He had fond memories of sharing the dish with his mother when Lucius was away as she told him stories about her time at Hogwarts. He explained his recent confrontation and discussion to Blaise, under his breath as he ate.

"Are you mad?" Blaise exclaimed as he finished his tale. Draco shushed him and looked around covertly for any eavesdroppers.

"You ambushed Hermione Granger?" Blaise intoned in a softer voice. "I said you should request her tutoring services, not nearly kidnap her!"

"Well," said Draco, "I figured if I requested her from the library she would just leave when she arrived for our session and found me there. And how else was I supposed to approach her? She would surely have hexed me if I tried to talking to her alone."

Blaise was about to retort when Hermionie walked into the great hall. Her eyes flipped over the pair of Slyhterins and they watched as she meekly walked to the Gryffindor table and sat with her mates.

"I suppose she agreed then, since no one seems to be hunting you down for attacking the golden girl of Gryffindor."

"She did."

"When?" was all Blaise queried in response.

"Tomorrow night," Draco replied with a nervous flutter in his stomach.


	9. Chapter 9

**I'm kind of enjoying these double perspective scenes, and I think I'm going to continue them for some of the story.**

Blaise was having a great week. He had been toying with Potter every chance he got. Malfoy had relayed Harry's schedule to him, which he not so surprisingly knew by heart. Blaise had made a habit of running into Potter between classes; He would often go out of his way in order to meet Potter in hallways that were no where near his own next class. He would casually slip past the black haired boy and their shoulders or chests would brush together seemingly by accident as they made their way past each other down the crowded halls. He knew his actions were having the desired effect, as Harry usually turned a bit pink after their encounters. Twice Harry had immediately crashed into another student because he wasn't looking where he was going. He was instead looking over his shoulder for the elusive Slytherin who had just passed him. Yes, Blaise was feeling particularly pleased with himself.

In the classes they shared, Harry faired no better from Blaise's ministrations. One Potions class Blaise's top button had become accidentally undone and its effect on Potter was immediate; the outcome was an almost complete distraction from his potion resulting in abhorrent tar-like mixture which earned Potter his first Dreadful from Slughorn. Blaise had begun gleefully to leave an extra button on his shirt undone daily.

History of Magic today was worse as there was even less to pull Potter's attention away from him. Blaise noticed smugly out of the corner of his eye that Potter was breathing quite heavily for someone not engaged in any sort of physical activity and he swallowed more often than was necessary. Harry had his eyes closed but Blaise knew he wasn't asleep, the signs of his arousal were too readily apparent, to him at least. The anticipation he felt was delicious. It flowed over his body like the heat from a fire and left a taste on the back of his tongue like a dark merlot. Professor Binns was covering the various wars between dragons and goblins over treasure; some of these conflicts spanned centuries. Blaise paid attention long enough to scribble a few cursory notes and then decided he should stop torturing Potter and finally act. Two weeks of seemingly unrequited longing and want probably wasn't good for the boy's health and clearly was not good for his schoolwork. Blaise concocted a plan and decided to implement it after dinner.

History of Magic ended and Blaise casually exited the classroom and made his way to the Great Hall. Ten minutes later Draco joined him and told him an astonishing story about how he had managed to waylay, disarm, and trap Hermione in one moment and then convince her to tutor him in the next. Blaise was honestly amazed that Draco had managed to keep his bollox after that little stunt. It was his idea that Draco request Hermione as a tutor as it would allow him to spend time with her in a private and hopefully less volatile way. Their first meeting was tomorrow night and Blaise was eager to hear how it would go. However, he was far more focused on what he planned to do when their meal had ended.

Blaise watched the back of Harry's head as dinner began to end. Potter had recently begun sitting with his back facing the Slytherin table. A dangerous prospect, he thought to himself. His fathomless eyes glittered as he watched Harry rise from the table and leave the great hall alone. Weasley and Granger were bickering again across the table from him and didn't call him back as he left. Blaise smoothly stood and made eye contact with Draco. They both smiled secretively; Clearly Draco had also noticed that Potter left alone and an unspoken 'good luck' passed between the two.


End file.
